Come Join Me
by Fluffy Tranquil
Summary: Amir and her friends have just gotten the chance of a lifetime. But will one friend threaten to ruin it for them?
1. Chapter 1

**Preview of one of my books! Please enjoy & review! =) **

Luis Sampson Apartments is a building that was constructed in the mid 1950's. It was made from brick, which was positive to ensure safety. Its only building was said to have been built by the sole owner, Luis Sampson Jr. The rent was cheap, and the rooms were fine. Of course, there could be more space in the bathroom, but it was a little tough to find any apartments with _those_ accommodations.

Amir walked into the apartment, where the usual happenings were occurring. Shane, Luis' grandson, was standing behind his desk in the lobby, a magazine in hand. Few others were in the room, either reading or sitting down on the tiny, black sofa that sat in the corner of the room. The old TV was displaying soap operas for anyone who happened to be interested, but people were never truly involved in many things happening around here.

"Amir," Shane called out. "these are for you." He passed a medium-sized envelope to Amir, which she quickly tore open.

"Wonderful! I thought they would never get here." She placed the tickets back into the envelope. "Are you sure you can't go?"

"Unfortunately, I have to work. Tell me how it goes. …I bet he won't even show."

Amir rolled her eyes. "He most definitely will." She began to walk away from the counter.

Shane smirked. "Have a good time."

"I will," She promised. After a quick glance back to catch Shane smiling, she pressed one of the buttons that was on the wall. Almost immediately, an elevator door opened up. She stepped in and pushed the button that would take her to the sixth floor. When she reached the third floor, she received a companion. Although Davie, her neighbor, was only 13, he was a charming kid. He wasn't loud or rude, like most teenagers, and he spent his free time lusting after Maleha, a 15-year-old girl who was living on the third floor, which was his only reason for being down here in the first place.

"Is your mom home?" Amir asked. She did not want Davie running around the entire building while Jocelyn was at work.

Davie nodded. "She just got home from work. She's taking a nap right now."

"Good. I just want to make sure you're not getting into any trouble."

"Of course not."

They reached their floor now. "Goodbye."

He waved goodbye, before walking down the hallway and towards his apartment.

Amir took the key out of her pocket and stuck it into the lock on her door. After letting herself in, she set her purse down on the coffee table in the living room. A quick shower would be all she would need before heading over to Evan's apartment.

She stripped her clothes off, tossed them into the hamper, and then stepped in her shower. The cool water was relaxing after a stressful day at work. While the water was warming up, she grabbed her shampoo, squeezed some into her hand, and then massaged it into her hair. Her hands working through her auburn curls were like magic. But before getting obsessed with how nice a decent shower was, she rinsed the soap from her hair. After a thorough conditioning, she came to the conclusion that she'd dealt with enough hot water for one day. Her skin looked as if it would be red permanently, and her toes were shriveled up.

She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her body. So, does one really need to put on make-up for a musical performance? Okay, it wasn't like she was going to a concert. She'd won the tickets during her commute to work by knowing the answer to a random bit of trivia she had learned from one of her classes during her college years. Although they weren't too distant, no one wants to remember sitting through Music Theory 101, and having Molly Hartlove as a partner. Molly never showed up to class, and she always had to take charge of everything when she actually _came_ to class. …But Molly Hartlove was now working at a local coffee shop, and Amir was a journalist, so having to put up with Molly, or the lack of Molly, was quite worth it. And hey, it even landed her the free opportunity to listen to some of the world's most renowned cellists, violinists, and pianists. Her favorite pianist was even going to be there, which made it something actually worth attending.

After putting on a bit of blush and getting dressed in a skirt and a nice top, Amir walked out into the hallway. She locked her door. As she turned around, she almost had a heart attack.

"Hi, Amir," Adora, one of her neighbors, cheerfully exclaimed.

"Oh, you're ready early, huh?" Amir eyed the petite woman in front of her.

She brushed her dark brown hair out of her eyes, making bright blue irises come into view. Those innocent eyes could make someone say yes to anything. "Of course," She cheered. "Nothing's wrong with being early. You're going to Evan's apartment, right?"

Amir nodded. "Yeah, I am."

"Cool. I guess it can be a little 'fan club' thing. Come on!" Adora grabbed her arm and dragged her down the hall and to the elevator. If Amir thought that she was a big fan of Crawford Morrow, then she was clearly mistaken, for Adora practically worshiped him. He was her idol. Trust her; she knew that Adora's bedroom wall was covered in pictures of him. She even had a miniature statue of him on the mantelpiece, and his sheet music framed on the wall. Amir wouldn't consider it completely obsessive; it was just her current fetish. She would likely be over it in a month or so. Then she would transfix her obsession towards famous painters or actors. Her walls would be obscured by different faces; new names would work their way into her daily conversation.

"I guess…" Amir and Adora both reached forward to press button number eight. Amir chuckled, her hand retreating back toward her side.

"So, are Toby and Lorraine still going?"

"Yes. As much as they probably don't want to go, they had nothing better to do."

"Hey, it's free entertainment. Thanks for inviting me, by the way."

"I had to bring you. You love Morrow."

"That I do, Amir, that I do."

The elevator door opened, and the first thing they saw was the door of Evan's apartment, which read 8C. Amir knocked on the door, and then opened it. She and Adora walked in and settled down on the couch.

Evan was still getting dressed, but he could hear them come in. "I'll be in in a few minutes."

"Okay," Adora called back. "So, um, are you excited?"

Amir shrugged. "I guess." Now that the time of the show was nearing, the hype was wearing off. "I mean, I'm seeing a world-famous pianist."

"Try the best. He's amazing. I tried playing some of his pieces, but I stumbled through it entirely. I think they were created for much more advanced players. Do you play?"

"I tried in the seventh grade, but I didn't understand any of it. I kept telling myself that if I kept playing, it would get better, but all of that crossing-over made my fingers hurt."

"It really isn't that hard. Once you get used to it, it comes naturally. But then if you get too accustomed to it, you'll subconsciously start doing that every time you play a piece that requires you to move up to the next C. Skipping keys is annoying too. Once in high school, I was chosen to play the school song at the upperclassmen's graduation, and I skipped the F when I wasn't supposed to. Yeah, let's just say that I messed up badly."

"I understood none of that. But go on."

"Oh, no. That was pretty much the end of my music career."

"Did you only play in high school?"

Adora shook her head. "No. I've known how to play the piano ever since I was 6. I would put on recitals for my mom in the living room, and my older brother would sing."

"Were you any good?" Amir asked.

"I was okay, I guess. I played at a few recitals, but it's not like I decided to go pro. Who would take a little kid seriously anyway?"

"You're absolutely right. No one these days expects a child to be capable of much. But I truthfully think that children are more competent of working for what they want. Adults give up. I wish that was something people tell you. It would have saved me a hell of a lot of time."

"What would have?" Evan came into the living room. He sat down on the couch opposite of the two women.

"If someone told us that we would give up on our dreams."

"Oh, hell yes. I spent ten years thinking that I would be a singer. I was too afraid to sing on stage. I could barely even introduce the speaker at my 5th grade graduation, so what would make me believe I could go up there and showcase my so-called 'talent'?"

Adora cut in. "I think that job would be more suited for Toby. I mean, he's the cockiest asshole we know. He'll do anything. Do you remember that time in Hawaii when he—"

"—Of course!" Evan busted out if fits of laughter. He and Adora had gone to college with each other, and every time they all got together, they enlightened the rest of the group with tales of their senior trip to Maui. "Who could forget him drunkenly streaking on the beach. That lady was shouting at him in, what was it, French?"

Adora shrugged. "I have no idea what language she was speaking. I was cracking up! What she was saying was the last thing on my mind. I just found it hilarious that she started beating him with her bra."

"If he was a slower runner, she wouldn't have had to start taking her clothes off. …Actually, she had no reason to even take her clothes off in the first place. She was crazy!"

"Okay, I think we've had enough fun laughing at Toby. He'll be here soon, so try not to laugh at him." After hearing her own words, Amir couldn't help but giggle.

"At least save making fun of him for later." Adora smirked. "We get to talk about Crawford now!" She clapped her hands.

"Fine," Evan sighed. "Have you guys heard his new composition?" After both of the girls shook their heads, he continued. "Some douche bag leaked it onto the internet. I heard it last night. I should have emailed it to you guys. It was amazing. I was speechless."

"Well," Amir began. "I'm sure he'll play it tonight. I'm positive it will be worth the wait."

"It better be. These are hundred-dollar tickets we're talking about!"

"Dora, we didn't pay one cent for them."

"I believe that radio host said Amir won tickets for her and 'five of her friends to enjoy the night.' But I can't really complain. We'll still be in the same building with him, at least." Something about Adora's grin was a bit off. Maybe she was over-possessed by Crawford J. Morrow. His music spoke to people. That was something everyone knew. But maybe it said a little too much to Adora for her to fully comprehend it. Sometimes Amir wondered if Adora was obsessed with Crawford as a person or as a musician. She might just have a liking for him, and not for his actual music.

"Yes, that is the mature thing to do, and we applaud you for not being a stuck-up bitch."

Adora rolled her eyes. "Well, why don't you two talk about how much of a bitch I can be. I'm going to raid your refrigerator." She jumped up from her seat and headed to the kitchen.

"I'll go see if Lorraine is ready. Mara and Toby said they'll be waiting in the lobby at 6:30." Amir grabbed her purse and then proceeded with her journey to Lorraine's apartment on the 2nd floor. Lorraine was just coming out of her apartment, so Amir and her had saved some time.

"Is everyone ready?" Lorraine questioned.

"Well, Adora is riffling through Evan's fridge before we go, and Toby and Mara will be downstairs."

"Ooh, always those two together. Are you sure nothing is going on between them?"

"Their love life is their business."

"Yeah. I guess if they decide to tell us their sleeping together, then that's their decision."

"Just because two people are dating, it does not mean that they are sleeping with each other."

"Not how I see it…"

"Oh, and how do you see it?"

There was a long pause before Lorraine spoke again. "That is classified information that only I'm permitted to knowing."

"Slut," Amir coughed. "Oh, what is wrong with me?" Her fake coughing got even louder. "I'm kidding. Everyone knows you're not like that."

"Thanks, really." She crossed her arms. "I think I'm going to have to stop hanging out with you."

Amir held up her finger. "Hold that thought." She pressed the answer button on her phone, which ended the loud ringtone. "Hello."

"Are you guys ready?" It was Toby. "We're downstairs, and everyone else is here too."

"Yeah. We'll be down soon. Bye."

"Goodbye."

"They're ready?"

Amir nodded, holding her arm out for Lorraine. "Shall we?"

"We shall." Lorraine linked her arm with Amir's.

When they got down to the lobby, they spotted their four friends standing by Shane. They were getting the keys from Shane, since they needed to borrow his van. Everyone could not squeeze into one of their own vehicles, and Shane was not using his van tonight, so he let them borrow it. Someday, Amir would pay him back for being so nice to her and all of the residents of this apartment building.

**Okay, that is the end of this preview! I'll post a section on the pianist they are speaking of! **


	2. Chapter 2

Crawford J. Morrow hadn't performed for an audience in over 10 years, which made the tickets so hard to acquire. They sold out almost immediately, and, unless you knew someone who worked at the music hall, your chances of getting in were impractical. Even his closest acquaintances could barely get a word in with him.

He continued to compose many songs, which his publicist, Kathy, would always claim were his final songs. It all turned out to be a hoax to get more people to offer to buy his compositions, and it worked a few times, but people started to dislike what he stood for. He never wanted to trick people this way, but after he stopped performing, the stories that people made up sounded even more believable. More rumors were told, false news circulated, and before he knew it, he found himself agreeing to perform for the first time in nearly 11 years. He would be getting paid, and it would deny any gossip that was out there, which was a good reason to decide to do this, but immediately following the show would be a great deal of questions. Before he'd get to express his opinion on any of them, though, Kathy would simply state that he would not answer anything they asked him, and then they would be on the way to their hotel before leaving town. Then it was back to England for another period of solitude, dissonance with the public, and fabricated statements that would further destroy his image. This, of course, was just describing the people who disliked him.

Those who enjoyed his work admired him, and they stuck up for him no matter what the costs were. They understood that all these deceitful claims were made in attempts to bring him down. People were jealous, but who wouldn't be? He wasn't just well-known in the UK. If you asked someone from any given country on the planet, they could probably tell you who he was. He was no Handel, Mozart, or even Bach, but he was well off.


End file.
